Page 107 of Modern Romance September 2025 1-4

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Amelia spent most of her day bustling about, making sure guests were happy and the preparations for the ball were taking place behind the closed ballroom doors, where no one could fully see how the magic was made.

She did not know what Diego was up to, but occasionally she would rush to do something only to be told by one of the staff that Diego had handled it.

Making her job easier.

Every time, it left her a little breathless. Like she wasn’t delusional to think that something was happening. A great awakening. A healing. That the tiniest seed of hope for a future might have been planted in Diego and this was how he was showing her.

He wanted to be here. With her. Her partner. The two of them taking care of each other and stepping into the future , even as they honored the past.

She wanted that seed to grow, so she didn’t allow the fear to dull her hopes. That wasn’t what Christmas was about, to her mind. This was the season for hope and magic and joy. She would lean into that.

So tonight. She would tell him tonight.

After the ball, curled up together in what had become their bed, she would tell him that she was in love with him. And whatever came after that was hers to deal with.

Her decision. Her consequences.

She liked to think it was full circle. To change what the ball might mean to him into something good. To show him change was possible. Healing was possible. Good was possible and he wasn’t undeserving.

She didn’t allow herself to consider his reaction. It wasn’t about his reaction. It was about what she felt and sharing it with him. He got to choose how he dealt with that. She could not control it.

If he crushed her heart, at least she’d done something for herself rather than be afraid, rather than blindly follow some grief-stricken attempt to bring her father back to life by doing what he wanted.

Her feelings for Diego were hers and hers alone, and every step she’d made with him had brought them closer together. Every time she’d reached out, he’d followed.

That truth propelled her through the day. Through issues that cropped up that she had to problem-solve. Then up to her room to get ready for the ball itself. She half expected to find Diego here, but he wasn’t.

Still, she stopped short because laid out on the bed was a dress of dark red, certainly not hers. She moved toward it, wondering if a staff member had somehow gotten confused and put a guest’s dress in her room.

But there was a note laid across the dress. In slashing script she recognized as Diego’s handwriting, it said: Merry Christmas.

She couldn’t even imagine how much it had cost. She supposed that wasn’t the point. Considering she handled much of Diego’s businesses in some capacity, she knew he could afford it.

That he’d thought of it was the point. A gesture that showed he paid attention and had considered this night at least long enough ago to have the dress purchased in advance.

She wished he’d had the courage to give it to her himself, be here to handle her appreciation, but she saw this as progress. As a step toward a future where they were both a little stronger.

He’d started at the bottom of a deep pit of self-loathing and survivor’s guilt. She could hardly expect him to jump out of it quickly and easily. Healing required time.

But steps were encouraging.

She smiled, trailing a finger over the velvety fabric, then set about getting ready as she listened to Christmas carols. Once finished, she surveyed herself in the mirror, impressed with the results.

Feeling like some kind of joyous Christmas fairy, she went in search of Diego, hoping to find him before she needed to be in the ballroom.

He wasn’t in his room, or anywhere in their personal wing of the castello, so she went down the staircase, only to find him waiting at the bottom.

He was dressed in a dark suit, dark shirt underneath.

He would not have looked at all festive, instead more like an angel of death, but he had worn the tie she’d set out for him.

It had been his father’s. It was a deep green that almost looked black when surrounded by so much of it, but there were little sprigs of lighter green and dark red holly embroidered all over it. A little Christmas pizazz.

For a moment, Amelia didn’t move down the stairs. She just stood at the top, looking at him. That tie felt like a sign. Just like the dress. Just like last night.

She couldn’t fight all the hope inside her. He was changing and opening up. How could she think he’d reject love when he had taken all these steps?

He was staying for the ball, and he was wearing his father’s Christmas-themed tie. He had smiled at her story about Aurora last night. These were all steps back into the light, and maybe it was conceited to think she was part of it, but he smiled up at her, there at the top of the stairs.

Because there was something here , and they only needed the chance to build from it. She took the stairs down to him.

“You are stunning, tesoro .”

“Thank you for the dress,” she said as she reached the bottom. “It’s certainly perfect for the occasion.”

He took her hand, brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “As are you. The person responsible for such a night should certainly look it.”

She beamed at him, then reached out and straightened his tie, which didn’t need straightening. She looked up at his face, wondering if he did not remember that it had been his father’s. He’d avoided the Christmas Ball for most of his adult life.

He tucked her arm into his, not mentioning anything about the tie. She would bring it up later. First, they had to face their guests.

While some were odious like that Longo woman who had been disparaging Aurora last night—and who would be forever removed from the guest list thereafter—many were kind, enjoyed both the atmosphere and remembering their old friends they’d lost too soon.

As the ballroom filled with these people, she and Diego mingled. They danced, close enough for people to whisper. Amelia didn’t concern herself with it. If they were scandalized by the age difference, by Diego being her boss, by whatever , she didn’t care.

This was right and real. So she enjoyed herself.

She didn’t worry when a guest spilled red wine on the expensive antique rug.

She didn’t fuss over a couple getting into an argument, simply escorted the woman away while Diego escorted the man, and calmed them down.

She took each hiccup as it came, dealt with it and moved on.

Because she knew how to plan an event, make it sing.

And come the new year, that’s what she’d do.

She’d help Diego find a new assistant—while encouraging him to take back some of his own responsibilities—and she would focus on events.

Either at the castello if Diego approved, or somewhere else if he did not.

As for their relationship…that left a pit of nerves and fear in her stomach. If he returned her expression of love, then… Then they could move forward as they had been. She’d liked these past few weeks.

If he didn’t… Well, she wasn’t ready to consider that. That she would deal with as it came.

The guests began to slowly trickle away, calling it a night, thanking Amelia in many different ways. A few brought tears to her eyes when they said she had thrown as good of an event as the former hostess, and how much that had meant to them.

Yes, tonight had been healing for many. Once the last guest had filtered away, Amelia sat herself on the chaise longue, not having the energy to go upstairs just yet. She slipped off her shoes and sighed at the relief from the heels.

The room glittered, and Diego stood over by the bar, nursing a drink. Amelia could not read his expression, but something like a portent fizzled over her skin.

She pushed it away. “Why don’t you turn off the lights and come sit next to me?” she suggested.

There was a moment of hesitation that might have concerned her, but he faced her with a sly grin. “With guests in the home? For shame, tesoro .”

She chuckled and shook her head. “I want to enjoy the tree lights. Turn the overheads off and come.”

He did as beckoned, turned off the overhead lighting so now it was only the twinkling red, green and white of the tree. Amelia knew all the work that had gone into that tree. She knew it was simply some electricity and bits of shiny things placed carefully, but it felt like magic all the same.

Diego slid onto the chaise next to her, and she leaned against him, appreciating the strong warmth of his body.

“It was the perfect night.” Just perfect. Even the hiccups had been perfect, because they allowed it to feel real. They would look back on tonight with smiles, satisfaction over handling everything that had come their way.

She turned to him in the glow of the Christmas tree she’d decorated for him. So that he could return to the castello and remember. Feel. Come back to life.

She wanted to look back on this moment, this night, and remember it for being the perfect start to something beautiful and lasting.

His face lit by the twinkling lights, the shadows around them like a cocoon rather than any darkness. But life was both.

And she wanted both with him.

Perhaps she should ease into it, warn him a bit before the words escaped, but in the end, Amelia only had the simplicity of the feeling.

“I love you, Diego.”

Amelia had not let herself imagine the moment after. She’d simply told herself she’d handle whatever came her way. Even if he rejected her. This wasn’t about him . It was about how she felt.

But the way he froze, his eyes going flat and blank, was like being stabbed through the heart.

And she hadn’t prepared for that at all.

Diego did not panic. Not outwardly. Not just yet. He had not considered… Not yet…

Perhaps he should have. And because, perhaps, he’d seen it there in her eyes even if he’d pretended he hadn’t, he didn’t panic. He wasn’t ready, but a part of him was.